Cyborg Nation by Kaitlyn O'Connor (english readers TXT) 📗

keen anticipation and then left, because she realized she’d come out the loser in their battle of wills and sensed he knew it, too, or if it was a belated defensiveness and outrage that he’d had the audacity to take what he wanted regardless of her tactic refusal to yield. Whatever it was, it was compounded when she discovered that, somewhere in the rounds of being thoroughly aroused when she didn’t want to feel anything toward him at all, she’d snapped the nose piece of her glasses.

Yielding to yet another stupid impulse, she threw them at him as he reached the door. Fortunately, she had never been terribly good at aiming. The broken glasses hit the wall a good three feet from him and fell to the floor. He stopped abruptly, looked down at the object she’d thrown at him and then threw a glance back at her.

Gaping at him in seriously belated fear of retribution, Bronte backed up and sprawled across the bed, bumping her head on the wall. His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on her splayed legs, or more specifically the point between her legs where they met. For several unnerving moments she was caught between the hope/fear he was going to turn around and finish what he’d started. He merely bent and scooped the glasses from the floor, however, and went out.

Dragging in a shuddering breath of relief when he’d left, Bronte pushed herself up and examined her throbbing head with her hand. Discovering there was no blood when it was damned well pounding hard enough to have produced some evidence she’d nearly cracked her skull in her hasty retreat, she rubbed at it until the pounding eased and then pushed herself off the bed and went to perform her waking routine.

When she came out, Gideon was sprawled on the bunk on his back, his eyes closed, his arms folded beneath his head in a way that made the muscles in his upper arms form a hard, round bulge that made her belly dance in trembling excitement. She halted abruptly, studying him warily and trying to decide whether she wanted her book badly enough to try to retrieve it from the other side of the bed. She glanced at the container of books, but she’d already set her heart on reading the thriller she’d picked out.

Tiptoeing across the room, she studied him and finally decided he was asleep. The book was near the wall, midway up the bed. Crawl up the end and grab it? Or lean over him?

She wasn’t crawling into bed with him, she decided.

An arm caught her around the waist as she leaned over him to grab the book. She landed on the bed and Gideon landed on top of her so fast it took her head several moments to stop swimming. About the time it did, she discovered her ass had landed on top of the hard, tubular casing of her book. “Ow!” she complained, trying to lift her hips off of it.

Obligingly, he cupped his hips and rocked against her, digging his erection against her mound. She tried reaching for the hard plasti-metal wedged beneath her butt and the mattress and discovered he’d manacled her wrists above her head with his hands. His face against her neck, he nibbled kisses down her throat and tried to use his chin to part the front edges of her suit. The conflicting sensations of pain from the book digging into her and pleasure from the feel of his lips along her throat collided. Uttering little, breathless grunts of pain and pleasure, she wiggled her hips, trying to move the book from beneath her or move her hips off of the book.

“My book!” she managed to gasp out just about the time he succeeded in parting the mesh closure at her neck.

He released his grip on one of her wrists, slid his hand down and dragged the book from under her, shoving it to one side. The moment he let go of her wrist, Bronte grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled. Ignoring her tug at his scalp, Gideon hooked his fingers in the front of the uniform and parted the closure to her waist. Squeezing one breast between his thumb and fingers, he opened his mouth over the tip and sucked until her eyeballs nearly rolled back in her head as fire spread through her in dizzying waves. She thrashed beneath him, struggling half-heartedly to fight him off, but Gabriel had already revved her engines and left her wide open to the needs simmering just below the surface of her consciousness. She was fighting a losing battle the moment Gideon reawakened the only semi-dormant pleasure receptors in her brain. Her brain instantly began churning out serotonin in debilitating, will decimating volumes.

By the time Gideon ceased to tug at her nipple with his mouth and tease the aching nub with the flick of his tongue, she felt like one giant, raw nerve ending, as if her whole body pulsed in concert with the frantic rhythm of her heart, threatening to explode each time the organ contracted and sent another surge of blood boiling through her veins. Weak, completely disoriented by the intoxicating drug pumping through her system, it was more her instinct for self-preservation than her rapidly dwindling willpower that made her grab at his arms as Gideon speared his hands beneath the shoulders of her suit and peeled it down, binding her arms to her sides with the fabric.

He shoved his arms beneath her shoulders, lifting them to meet his lips. Her neck too weak to hold up her head, her head tipped back against the mattress, arching her throat to his assault. He anointed the tender flesh there with open mouthed kisses, traced the frantic pulse along the side of her neck with his tongue, and moved lower to familiarize himself with the flesh he’d exposed to the mind drugging assault of his mouth. Feeding the blaze he’d already kindled, he moved from